


The Difference of a Year

by Stacig



Series: The Best Gift [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Hogwarts Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stacig/pseuds/Stacig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Snape negotiate a relationship - eventually.<br/>AU after GoF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference of a Year

**Author's Note:**

> -This work was originally written in 2003 and posted to the 2003 Slash Advent calendar. It has gone through minor editing since then, but is mostly unchanged. Posted here in an attempt to consolidate my work in one place.  
> -Written after Order of the Phoenix was published so it is informed by that work but is still mainly AU from GoF.  
> -Originally posted under the author name Jade.  
> -Betaed by Lorra.

Snape felt frozen. His mind was racing, but all it could focus on was a replay of the last two minutes, and the fact that Harry Potter had just kissed him. In his workroom, the only place in this gods-forsaken castle that was supposed to be his own! It was the one place he had that was free from the painful memories that were so attached to the rest of Hogwarts. But now this... disgrace would forever be associated with it.

He never should have sent Potter that damned photo album in the first place. He knew better; he should have listened to the little voice in the back of his mind that told him that Potter would know exactly what had motivated Snape to give him such a present. His attraction to men had never bothered Snape. He couldn't imagine any woman being able to put up with him for an extended period of time, anyhow. But when Potter had started popping up in his dreams the year before, he had been horrified. Snape had never before had erotic dreams about a student. It was simply wrong, and that it was this particular student only made it inexcusable.

When his feelings hadn't changed by the spring of Potter's sixth year, Snape had known he needed to distance himself from the boy. He'd spoken to Albus about giving up his position at the end of the year, but Albus would have none of it. Severus was needed, he had said, for what was coming. And even after his death, Dumbledore had continued to make demands on Snape. The letter that had arrived two days after the old man's death had both comforted and angered Snape. Again, Albus had asked him to watch over Potter and to do what he could to ensure the boy's happiness. He wanted to put as much distance between Hogwarts and himself as possible, but he knew he couldn't ignore the man's last request. Potter was to be his problem for some time yet.

The brat had been dreadfully unhappy since returning to school in September. Everyone on the staff had commented about it and how it was affecting the other students, but none of them had bothered to do anything. Eventually Snape knew he would have to be the one to intervene, in this as in everything else, before Potter got to the point where he considered doing something drastic.

Snape could have done any number of things, but as Christmas had drawn closer he had known it would be the holidays that would present the truest test of the boy's coping abilities. It would need to be a present, then, and one that would be able to connect Potter to the past but also allow him to move on. That was when Snape had come up with the idea of the photo album. 

It had taken no small amount of work, but he had eventually gotten all the pictures he needed. Then when the album had been put together, Snape had hesitated in sending it. It was a good present and he knew Potter would appreciate it, but it was also a present that only someone who knew and cared for the boy would give. He was still disgusted with himself for his feelings, but his obligation to Albus weighed heavily on him. Eventually he had sent the package.

He shouldn't have. Potter wasn't stupid, regardless of what his school grades could make someone think. He had obviously known right away that there were some strong feelings behind the gift. Snape had assumed the boy would be shocked and horrified if he knew about his professor's affections. The fact that Potter seemed to return them to at least some extent disturbed Snape almost more than he could say. It had been bad enough to have those thoughts and know he would never act on them, but now part of him would have hope that something might eventually happen. It was truly awful.

Snape reached up to the spot on his cheek and mouth where the Potter brat had kissed him and scrubbed at it with the back of his hand. He didn't want to think about the thrill that had gone through his body at the feeling of those soft lips against his face. He was twenty years older than the boy, not to mention his professor. None of these feelings were right.

There were only six months before Potter was done with his schooling at Hogwarts. Snape would just need to use that time to ignore the brat as much as possible. He was certain that Potter would forget about him and whatever feelings he thought he had as long as Snape continued to act like the snarky bastard he had always been. It had worked with everyone else, even when he hadn't wanted it to drive people away. He was sure it would work on Potter as well.

***_***

Snape scanned the list of students that Minerva had dropped off in his office earlier in the day. As Deputy Headmaster, one of his least anticipated duties was counseling those students who had no idea what they wanted to do with their lives after leaving Hogwarts. In fact these interactions with the students were what had made Snape originally turn down the position. But then, of course, Minerva let him know that Albus had made it clear that Snape was to take up her old position and that she wasn't going to take his refusal so easily. So Snape had capitulated and agreed to take the position, which also came with a standard five-year contract. He was still cursing Albus for that particular aspect of his manipulation.

All students were required to submit a plan as to what they would do after leaving the school. Some students decided to head straight out into the world and take up a position, while others went on to further education at another institution. For the students continuing on in their education, Snape needed to oversee their applications to university or apprenticeship programs. 

He shouldn't have been surprised to see Potter's name on the list of students that had failed to submit a plan to their Head of House by the deadline. The brat likely had no idea what he was going to do with his life, and considering his dismal performance in the majority of his classes, he certainly didn't have many options. Snape knew Minerva had spoken to him in fifth year about the possibility of going into Auror training following the completion of his education. She told Snape that Harry had seemed interested, but he had never followed through with the education that would allow him to enter that training. The boy seemed to coast along at the bottom of most of his classes, doing just the minimum amount of work necessary to allow him to advance into the following year. Snape had no doubt that Harry would receive NEWTS in most of his classes, but not with the types of scores that would admit him to anything as intensive as Auror training.

Snape worried for the boy and not only because of the lingering attraction he felt for him. Potter seemed to be drifting without any real purpose. Unfortunately, his Head of House didn't seem interested in intervening with him. Snape knew that most of the teachers sympathized with Potter because of all he had been asked to do over the last seven years. They thought he deserved a break; they didn't want to push him. Snape thought that attitude was exactly the boy's problem. He needed to be pushed. He needed to be shown that what he did was still important, that it still mattered what he did with the rest of his life. Snape hadn't been able to intervene directly before, but now that Potter had failed to submit his paperwork, Snape was obligated to put some sense into that thick skull.

He hadn't spoken directly to Potter since their incident at Christmas almost two months before. Potter had attempted to corner him several times, but Snape had always managed to elude the teenager. He knew more secret passages in the castle than anyone else. Most of them led to or from the dungeons, after all. He suspected that the boy wanted to talk about the wholly inappropriate kiss he had gifted Snape with at Christmas, but Snape wanted nothing less than to discuss that kiss or anything else related to his feelings concerning Potter. It still shamed him to have any sort of attraction to a student, and Potter's evident return of those same feelings only made him feel worse.

Snape picked up his quill and a new piece of parchment. He quickly wrote a note to Potter telling the boy to report to the Potion Master's office at 7:00pm that Thursday night. He was also told to bring any research or notes he had regarding his course of action following his completion of his studies. Snape didn't hold out much hope that Potter would actually have any materials of that nature. He scowled as he watched his owl leave the dungeon with the missive and head up to the Tower.

***_***

Thursday evening came both faster and slower than Snape would have liked. Faster because dealing with Potter on a one to one basis always seemed to leave Snape agitated and with a pounding headache, and slower because his traitorous body was telling him in no uncertain terms that it wanted to be close to his student. Snape's erotic dreams about the teenager had increased to the point where he couldn't pass a night without at least one disturbing his sleep. It was as though *he* was the teenager. He could barely think of anything more disgusting.

When the time finally came for their appointment, Potter was, of course, ten minutes late. The boy tumbled into his office looking disheveled and babbling on about Quidditch practice. Snape felt the vein at his temple begin to throb. One of the Ministry's 'awards' to Potter had been the lifting of his ban on Quidditch. At first it must have felt like a slap in the face for Potter, since with his leg and hip injury he would likely never be able to play Quidditch again, but Madam Hooch had quickly offered the boy a spot as her assistant and he had jumped at the chance. Mostly he explained plays and strategy to the younger students. He couldn't demonstrate many of the moves, but at least he could still fly a broom and that was more than the medi-wizards had expected when they had first examined him after the final battle.

"I'm really sorry," the boy continued to insist. "I tried explaining to Madam Hooch that I had an appointment, but she's a real stickler for me staying until..."

"Stop," Snape interrupted loudly. He really didn't need to hear the whole long drawn-out story. He felt his eye twitch. A headache was fast coming on and he was already half-hard from seeing the sweaty and mussed boy nervously standing in front of his desk. He hated everything about the situation.

"I will speak with Hooch. In the future you will schedule your time better."

"But the practices are pre-arranged," Potter protested.

"Then you should have made me aware of the conflict," Snape said. "I am not your secretary. I'm a busy man, Mr. Potter. I don't have time to sit here waiting for you to grace me with your presence."

For a moment, Snape thought the boy was going to say something back to him. He had that defiant look in his eye that usually meant he thought he was being treated unfairly. Of course, he quite often felt he was being treated unfairly, so Snape didn't put a lot of credence in his opinion. Regardless, that look was usually followed by some rude impertinence. But not that day, to Snape's immense relief.

"Yes sir," Potter said eventually.

Snape nodded his acceptance. "Sit down," he instructed and gestured to the chair placed on the opposite side of his desk to accommodate visiting students.

Potter sat and almost immediately started shifting around. Snape had long ago had that chair cursed so that there was no comfortable way to sit in it. He found it was fitting payback for the students who forced these sorts of meetings, and he was glad to see it in action once more.

"You know why you're here?" Snape asked.

"Because I didn't submit my after-graduation plan to Professor Webber," Potter told him directly. He seemed to finally settle on a position in the chair that was likely the least uncomfortable and was trying to stay still.

"You obviously know what you were expected to do. Why didn't you?"

"I..." the boy started, but his voice was too hesitant and Snape could tell that he was grasping around to try and figure out what his professor wanted to hear. 

"Potter, don't lie to me," Snape snapped. "I told you I'm busy. I don't have time to play your games."

Potter closed his mouth and glared at Snape. Snape just smirked back. He wasn't in a good mood and the conflicting afflictions of his body were threatening to drive him more than slightly mad.

"I don't see what importance it has," the boy spat out eventually. "I've done what I was supposed to do."

"You haven't done even half of what you're supposed to do, Potter," Snape snapped back. His head throbbed painfully at the volume in his own voice. He hated how this boy could always get him going. He was just like his father in that respect, although the lust was this Potter's alone.

"I've done everything you ever asked of me."

"All I ever asked of you was that you learn something in my class, Potter," Snape said coldly. "The rest was the manipulations of a crazy old man."

Potter's eyes narrowed and his face took on a red colour. "Dumbledore was a great man," he insisted.

"He was," Snape agreed, "but he was also a manipulative bastard who asked much more of a child than he did of most adults. He trained you to take on Voldemort from your first day here. He always planned to send you up against the Dark Lord. He made you a figurehead for everyone's hopes."

"We were at war," Harry insisted.

"So we were. And people die in war. Believe me, Mr. Potter, I know that better than you do. But children should not be asked to fight wars that adults are not able to prevent."

"I'm not a child."

"You are," Snape insisted, "And that's the most disturbing thing about what you were asked to do - that none of us see you as the child you really are." 

Snape was speaking of himself and his unwelcome desire for Potter, but he was also speaking about the unreal expectations that the rest of the world seemed to have of the teenager as well. They really saw him as a hero. He was expected to do something great with his life, and if Potter didn't decide now what he wanted for himself he would always be trying to live up to other's expectations and wants. He would never be allowed to live his own life. Snape knew he couldn't allow that and hated himself for the sentimentality of what he was doing.

"So you want me to fill out your forms to prove to you and myself that I'm a child?" Potter asked incredulously.

"No, I want you to fill out the forms for the same reason that I want all the students fill out their forms, so that you have a clearer idea of what *you* want out of your life."

"I want to be left alone."

"Potter," Snape growled.

"No one cares what I want anyhow."

"You're an idiot, Potter."

"What does that mean?"

Snape didn't answer. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and took out the two long pieces of parchment that made up the forms Potter needed to fill out before they could end their meeting that night. He placed the forms on his desk with a loud slap of his hand. Potter jerked in his seat and gave Snape a look that clearly communicated how very little he wanted to be there at that particular moment.

"Fill them out," Snape instructed.

The boy scowled, but moved forward and reached for one of the quills sitting on Snape's desk. Snape flinched when the brat picked up his best quill and started scratching it across the parchment, but didn't say anything. At least he had started. Maybe they would both be out of here before midnight.

"And here I thought you liked me," the boy muttered, but didn't look up at Snape.

Snape seethed, but pretended not to hear. He knew he didn't have the patience to deal with that aspect of his feelings for Potter, not if he actually wanted to do his job and get the forms filled out that night. Fighting with Potter about the existence or non-existence of his 'feelings' would lead to more yelling and a stronger headache than the one he was currently suffering.

Snape opened the book he had left on his desk. It was a new potions text that he was reviewing to see if it could be any use in his class the following year. He had started to think the whole exercise might be a waste of time when he saw that the pages were becoming covered in more of his red ink than original text. The author had no idea what he was talking about half the time. Every time a text of this quality crossed his desk, Snape seriously considered his idea of writing a text of his own for use in his class. Perhaps now that the war was over he would be able to take the project up over a summer.

After a few minutes - many less than Snape would have liked - Potter dropped his quill and looked up at him. "I can't do this," he stated.

"Why not?"

"Because I have no idea what I want to do with my life tomorrow let alone after I've left school," the boy snapped. "All I've ever been good at is Quidditch and killing Dark Lords and I can't exactly do either anymore."

Potter's hand moved down to his leg absently and stroked over the location of his injury. It still angered Snape that he'd been unable to find a potion to fix Potter's leg. The spell Voldemort had used had either been one of his own creation or of one of the Death Eaters. It was nothing like Snape or anyone else had seen before and it could be years before Potter was healed properly, if it ever happened. By that time his Quidditch-playing days would surely be over.

"Self pity is not going to serve you here, Mr. Potter. You have much more potential as a wizard than your exam results suggest. You're right, you're never going to be accepted into a university, but you can still apply for an apprenticeship in an area that interests you, or you could simply find work. I'm sure the Ministry would be more than willing to find a place for you." Snape said the last with a sneer. The Ministry was still practically bending over backwards to see if there was anything the boy wanted. It was disgusting, although Potter never seemed to take them up on their many offers and that *had* impressed Snape.

"The Ministry," Potter said with disgust. "The last thing I want is a position simply because I'm the 'boy-who-lived'."

"An apprenticeship, then," Snape suggested.

"I would never find someone to take me on my own merits."

"Perhaps not," Snape admitted. Potter was likely correct. There were many people who would take him on as an apprentice just so they could show him off as theirs. The boy deserved more than that. He deserved a master who would actually be willing and able to teach him something worthwhile. 

"But this school has access to a wide network of masters seeking apprentices. That is one of the reasons why we have you fill out the forms in the first place."

"Oh," Potter said and then looked back down at the paper on Snape's desk. "Defense has always been my favourite class, even though Professor Lupin was the only person who really taught it properly." Snape grunted in agreement at that comment. Even the man they had this year was questionable at best. It was damned difficult to find people who had enough knowledge of the Dark Arts themselves to actually be able to teach defense against them.

"It's stupid, right? I mean, you'd think I'd have enough of it by now," Potter continued.

"It's not stupid," Snape assured him. "The Dark Arts are complicated and intricate and their defense is more so. But I have to warn you that if you're serious about pursuing an apprenticeship in that area it's unlikely you will find a master in England."

"That's likely for the best," the boy said.

Snape caught the hint of a smile on his face and couldn't help but be glad for it. Maybe he wasn't as bad with this counseling stuff as he thought, or perhaps it was just that it was Potter. It was difficult for him not to be at least somewhat compassionate for the brat when he had more than half a mind to crawl over his desk and take the young man right there.

Snape shifted in his chair and quickly forced his thoughts away from the direction they had somewhat unexpectedly taken. He felt renewed disgust at his lustful thoughts, but that seemed to do little to curb them.

"Fill out the forms then," Snape instructed with a wave of his hand. "I will see if I can find a master of an acceptable caliber in that area."

Potter nodded and then returned to filling out the forms. Snape found himself watching the boy as he worked. Potter's perpetually messy hair fell down into his face and he repeatedly needed to reach up and brush it away. The boy really was turning into an attractive man. Snape was sure he'd had more than a few offers by now. There was absolutely no reason for him to think that he would ever have a chance with such a creature, and that annoyed him as well. If he was going to decide to start lusting after a student, it could at least be one that would be remotely accessible following his departure from Hogwarts.

"Thanks," Potter said sometime later.

Snape snapped out of his thoughts and realized that the boy was staring at him with a smirk on his face. Potter had obviously caught his professor staring at him. Snape fought hard against the rush of embarrassment and the almost inevitable flush that would colour his pale cheeks.

"I am only doing my job," Snape growled.

"If you were only doing your job, I would have detention by now."

"Potter," Snape warned his student.

"It's okay," the boy said with a shrug. "I know you like me."

"I do not like you," Snape roared. The boy was impossible. Hadn't they had enough of this particular conversation at Christmas?

"You said so at Christmas."

"I said you were tolerable. Sometimes. Now is certainly not one of those times."

"I think it is," Potter argued.

Snape felt his temper rising. His hands started to shake. What was it about Potter that allowed to push all of Snape's buttons? Even angry, he found himself attracted to the young man. The challenging gleam in his eye and the smug look on his face were enough to send a sharp thrill through the older man's body. Merlin's balls but it was horrible.

"Get out," Snape demanded. He stood up behind his desk, grateful for the voluminous covering of his robes, and pointed one long finger at the door of his office. "Now."

Potter looked at him for a moment longer and then finally nodded. He put Snape's quill down on top of the now-completed form and stood. He turned without a word and headed for the door.

Snape felt relieved until he heard the words Potter spoke over his shoulder as he stepped through the door.

"It's okay, Professor. I like you, too. I'm willing to wait."

Snape wanted to break something.

***_***

It was a cloudy and gloomy June day, which was reflected perfectly by the gray sky on the ceiling of the Great Hall. The final day of school was always a joyous one for the students and Snape usually felt the same. This time it was only slightly different. The seventh years were, as usual, excited but a little unhappy that this would be their last day at Hogwarts. The other professors were sending their students off and thinking about summer vacations or projects, and the rest of the students were dreaming of long, warm days of summer spent pursuing whatever mindless things children got up to, and definitely not planning how to complete their summer assignments as they should be. Snape usually found this day signaled his liberation, and this year was no different in that respect, but this particular day was also the last one he would be able to sit in his seat at the High Table and see Harry Potter at Gryffindor's. 

He hated himself for being maudlin about that, but he couldn't seem to help it. The boy was beautiful, more intelligent than most people, or his grades, gave him credit for, and surrounded by just the right amount of darkness to make him irresistible. Over the last four months, since their meeting about Potter's career path, Snape had decided it was that darkness that drew him to the boy. It was the same darkness that Snape fought every day and he knew instinctively that Potter would be able to understand it. This was someone he would never have to hide anything from. He could be himself around Potter and the young man simply ignored him. Potter had been through enough to know that nothing Snape said could ever truly hurt him. 

Snape had been careful not to allow himself to be alone with Potter since their last meeting in his office. The boy was simply too tempting and Snape wasn't a man to deny himself what he wanted for long. He was not a good man and he'd had too few good things offered to him in his lifetime. He knew that if Potter kept offering this one to him, that he would eventually take it and ruin all the work he'd done redeeming himself since he had first flown to Dumbledore's sanctuary. 

So detentions had been served with Filch, much to Potter's disappointment, all their correspondence regarding the boy's upcoming apprenticeship had been done through the post, and anytime that Snape absolutely needed to speak with the brat he had made sure to stop him in the hallway. It wasn't an ideal solution, it felt too much like running away, but Snape no longer had Albus to act as his moral compass and he didn't want to push his limits too much. Regardless, it had served Snape's purpose. Potter had yet to approach him with anymore inappropriate suggestions. 

Snape had spent a considerable amount of time looking into who might be able to provide Potter with the best apprenticeship. It had been harder than he had thought. The first few potential masters he had contacted hadn't been interested in Snape's student until they had found out whom he was, and that was exactly the type of master Snape didn't want for Potter. Finally, Snape had contacted an old acquaintance in Germany. The man had taught at Durmstrang for several years, and had a reputation for being extremely talented with defense against the Dark Arts. Reinhardt had agreed to take on the boy with Snape's strong recommendation, even though his grades were lacking. He had even been leery after learning Potter's identity. As far as Snape was concerned, the man was as near to perfect as he would get.

The train would be leaving in an hour and the students were starting to make their way out of the Hall and back to their rooms to retrieve their bags. The Leaving Feast had been the night before. It was a loud and chaotic affair. This morning was much more subdued and Snape was incredibly thankful for that. He tried not to notice as Potter left the Hall with Neville and Dean. The three of them had become close over the last year as the only seventh year boys remaining in Gryffindor. Eventually most of the students were gone and Snape was able to make his own way out of the Hall.

He was surprised to find himself feeling somewhat disappointed that Potter hadn't at least tried to approach him before he left for Germany. But at the same time he was relieved. He didn't want to have to fend off an amorous Potter one last time, either. 

Snape was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't see Potter lurking outside his rooms until he was right on top of the boy.

"Potter," Snape snarled.

Potter, who had been leaning against the wall, pushed himself up to his full height and smiled at Snape. "Professor."

"What are you doing here? You'll miss the train."

"I'm waiting for you," the boy said. "And I'm not taking the train. Reinhardt's picking me up in Hogsmeade this afternoon."

Snape scowled. He had been so careful to avoid Potter. He had thought he was safe now that the boy would be leaving, but he hadn't counted out being ambushed in his dungeons. Perhaps he would have expected it, though. Potter was nothing if not persistent. 

"Still can't do things like everyone else, can you Potter?"

Snape was sure the boy smiled just to annoy him. "It was Reinhardt's idea," he said cheekily. "He wants us to travel by foot to his place. It will likely take most of the summer, but he says it will be an excellent learning experience. And call me Harry."

"What?"

"Harry. It's my name. I'm not your student any longer."

"If you think that changes anything, you're wrong Mr. Potter," Snape growled. He pushed past the boy and stepped up to his door. He muttered his password and the portrait swung open to admit him.

"It changes everything," the brat said. He followed behind Snape and managed to slip in even though Snape tried to close to door before he could enter.

"Get out," Snape demanded.

"No."

Snape glared harder, but had a bad feeling that Potter wasn't going to back down. The boy had faced down the Dark Lord. Snape wasn't going to be able to turn him away with just a stern look.

"Leave."

"Call me Harry."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Get out, *Harry*," Snape spat out after a few more minutes of intense staring on both their parts.

Surprisingly, Potter broke out into a wide smile. Snape felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. The smile was so compelling. Warmth spread down through his body and he could feel himself becoming aroused. Why in Merlin's name did fighting with Potter turn him on? This was exactly why he had avoided the boy for the last four months.

"You like me," Harry accused him again. He stepped up to Snape and placed a hand on the professor's arm.

"Let me go," Snape said and attempted to shake the boy's hand off of him.

Harry's hand tightened on his arm. The younger man stepped in closer so that he was standing right next to Snape. Snape wanted to back off, but he couldn't seem to convince his body to move. Harry was so close and Snape didn't know if he would be able to keep putting him off now that Harry truly wasn't his student any longer.

"Severus," the young man said softly.

Snape was totally disgusted at himself when he shivered at the sound of his first name passing Harry's lips. He usually hated his name. He didn't let anyone use it. But coming from Harry's mouth it sounded so sensual. 

"Severus," Harry said again and smiled. "You must know how I feel by now and I'm pretty sure that you're at least attracted to me."

Snape continued to glare down at Harry, but he had a feeling that it wasn't quite as scary as he would have liked. It certainly wasn't putting Harry off from what he obviously wanted. 

"This isn't the right time," Snape said sternly.

Harry sighed. "I know," he said.

"You need to know what life's like outside of this school." Snape couldn't believe he was actually able to be rational with Harry pressed up against his side. He was relieved, though. He didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself if he took advantage of the young man when he couldn't possibly know what he really wanted.

"I don't want to."

"Don't whine. It's utterly unbecoming."

Harry glared up at him, but didn't say anything in response.

"Your apprenticeship with Reinhardt is four years. If you're still interested when that's finished, I will be here."

"I won't wait that long," Harry said. Then, without warning, he suddenly reached up, wrapped his arms around the back of Snape's neck, and drew the older man down for a deep kiss.

The sweet taste in Harry's mouth suddenly exploded across Snape's tongue as he opened his mouth under the younger man's onslaught. Harry's tongue pushed into Snape's mouth and swept around, exploring and tasting. Warmth flooded down through Snape's body and he felt himself grow harder than he had been in a very long time. It had been years since anyone had touched him like this. He had forgotten how very good it was.

They were both gasping by the time Harry pulled away. When Snape composed himself enough to look down at the young man, Harry had a quirky smile on his face.

"Potter," Snape said harshly.

"Yes?"

"Leave now before I do something I will regret later."

Harry smiled and stepped back from Snape. "I wouldn't want to keep Reinhardt waiting."

"No."

"It would make a terrible impression."

"Awful," Snape agreed.

"We'll finish this the next time I see you," Harry promised.

Snape nodded. He didn't trust himself to say anything as the young man turned and slipped out of his rooms. Once Harry was gone, it felt like something incredibly important, that Snape hadn't even known he'd had, was suddenly missing. 

He hated himself for being so attached already, but somehow he just couldn't come to make himself regret it.

***_***

"Severus, I'm certain I told you that Mr. Potter would be joining us this Christmas," Minerva said primly from behind her desk while Snape glared at her.

"You most certainly did not," Snape protested loudly. He hadn't believed what he was seeing that afternoon when Harry had walked into the Great Hall during lunch and been welcomed warmly by the Headmistress, who quite obviously had been expecting him, and the students that had remained behind for the holiday.

The young man had looked, if anything, more handsome than before when he had arrived that afternoon. He had lost the remaining childish roundness to his face and he was now quite obviously a man. He seemed somewhat broader and yet a couple inches taller. Perhaps the most compelling feature, as far as Snape was concerned, was that Potter had grown out his always-messy hair and pulled it back off his face. That change was most likely courtesy of Reinhardt telling Potter to either cut it off or grow it out to a length where it could properly be tied back. The medium-length hair that Potter had left school with was a nightmare for dueling, and dueling was an important part of any defense apprenticeship.

"Besides, I was under the impression that your animosity towards the boy had lessened," Minerva continued.

"What?" Snape demanded. Surely she had no idea about his inappropriate attraction.

"Severus, you didn't call for his expulsion even once last year," she said with just the hint of a smile. "And there was that thoughtful present you gave him at Christmas."

Snape scowled at the Headmistress. She was as bad as Albus in her own way. "It was doing no one any good having Potter mope around the school missing his friends," he protested.

"Well I expect you to be civil to him while he's here," the Headmistress told him sternly. "It's Christmas and we are his only family."

"I will be in my workroom, then," Snape told her with a snarl in his tone. He was feeling incredibly surly, but wasn't completely sure why. He should be happy to see Harry, but all he could bring himself to feel was a terrible apprehension.

"I still expect you for dinners and Christmas lunch," she continued. "As long as you're my deputy, you have a responsibility to set an example. I won't have you skulking around as you have in the past."

Snape scowled deeper, but eventually nodded in acceptance. "Very well," he told her. 

He stood up and turned to swoop out of the room. He was sure he saw just the hint of a smile on Minerva's face as he left. Damn Albus anyhow. Had he given the woman lessons in bothering Snape before the end?

***_***

Brewing potions usually relaxed him, but it wasn't working today. The potion was perfect, but Snape was still highly agitated. 

Harry was here. Snape had been so certain he wouldn't see the boy again. He was so sure that Harry wouldn't come back, but now he had. Did Potter remember the words they had exchanged before he had left the school? Was he really here to fulfill that promise, or had he simply returned to spend Christmas with Minerva and the other staff he felt close to. Of course, he must have known Snape would be here as well. It had been over twenty years since the potion's master had left the castle during the holidays.

He was startled when he looked up at one point and saw Harry standing on the far side of his lab next to the door. Snape really needed to find out how the young man had managed to get inside both this time and last Christmas. He suspected that his 'guardians' at the door had been won over by a few flattering comments in parseltongue. 

"Severus," Harry greeted him. The young man walked across the room and stopped next to the bench Snape was working at. "You stormed out of the Hall before I could speak with you."

"I didn't expect you to be coming." Snape continued to stir the cauldron in front of him.

"I should have written you," Harry admitted. "But I guess I wanted it to be something of a surprise."

"I see."

"Severus," Harry said softly. He reached out and put his hand on top of Snape's. Snape stopped his stirring, which at this point was honestly more out of nervousness than any true need. "Can you take a break here?"

"It is a good time to stop," Snape conceded. He cast a quick stasis spell and stepped back from the cauldron.

"You didn't expect me to return, did you?" Harry asked.

"You're young," Snape said simply. He turned and started walking across the room towards the door at the back that would take them to his private rooms. If they were going to have this conversation, they should at least do it somewhere more comfortable.

"Severus?"

"Well, are you coming or not?" It was all the invitation that Harry was going to get and the young man seemed to understand that. Moments later, Potter's thumping steps were following behind Snape. Snape wondered if it wouldn't be too much to ask for Reinhardt to teach his apprentice some stealth and grace.

"I might be young," Harry said as he caught up to Snape, "but that doesn't mean that I don't know what I want."

Snape stopped in the doorway that joined his living room and the laboratory and turned to look at Harry. The young man stopped just in time to avoid running into him. "That's exactly what it means," Snape told him in a low voice. "Nine months ago you couldn't even tell me what you wanted to do when you were finished school and you'd had almost seven years to figure that out."

"This is completely different," Harry protested.

"No, it is not. Being attracted to someone, wanting to be physically intimate with them, is an entirely different thing than actually attempting some kind of relationship. I am not a man given to casual relations, nor am I a kind or good man. You would be much better off with someone else."

"I know you're not a kind man. You're also not particularly fair or forgiving, but you are a good man. You've spent the last eighteen years proving that. You were there when it counted; you were there for me."

"So this is some kind of bizarre repayment for my service during the war? Don't bother. Albus more than adequately compensated me by hiding me away all these years."

Harry sighed. "You told me that if I came back, you would be here waiting for me. I thought we had an understanding. What's happened?" He took a step towards Snape, which caused the older man to step back into his rooms. Harry had just enough space to slip around him and close the door to the laboratory. He smiled broadly as though he had achieved some type of victory, and Snape conceded that he likely had.

"I changed my mind," Snape said succinctly.

"No you didn't," Harry pressed. "You're still trying to protect me from myself."

"Potter..."

"Harry," the younger man insisted before Snape could even get out what he wanted to say.

"By Merlin, you're annoying," Snape snarled. Harry was going to make him lose it, he just knew it. Snape turned abruptly. He stalked over to the shelf where he kept his liquor and poured himself a scotch. The liquor was smooth going down and seemed to settle his nerves a little.

Harry crossed the room to stand in front of him once more. "Don't fight this so hard," the younger man advised him. "I'm attracted to you and I want to be with you. I'm pretty sure you feel the same way. I'm not looking for some fling, and I agree that this isn't going to be an easy relationship. We're both stubborn and pig-headed. You're mean and hold grudges. I'm self-centred and moody. We're perfect for each other," Harry concluded with a smile.

Snape snorted loudly. Only Harry could list those qualities and think that they made the two of them in any way suited for a romantic entanglement. "You know I will not change," he warned the young man.

"Of course," Harry agreed. "Just as you know that I will likely always be an impetuous brat. So, what do you say?"

Snape stared down at Harry for several long moments. He still couldn't believe this was happening to him. People simply didn't come to Severus Snape and tell him that they thought he was a greasy bastard who had never played fairly and yet they wanted to be with him. And Harry wasn't talking about a brief affair either; Snape understood that now. Harry wanted it all. Snape had to admit to himself that he wanted the same thing.

Snape reached out and pulled the tie from Harry's hair. The long black strands fell loose and swept down to frame his face. "I like your hair this way," he said softly.

Harry smiled broadly. They both knew that Snape had just consented to the relationship. "Reinhardt made me grow it out. Well, use a lengthening charm on it actually," Harry explained. "Or I could have cut it, but I always thought I looked too severe with short hair."

"Yes," Snape agreed. He ran his fingers through the inky black strands. They were almost the same colour as his, but where his hair was course and oily, Harry's was soft and shiny. 

"Are you going to take me to bed, then?" Harry asked him several moments later. 

"Eager are we, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. His hands slid up Snape's body and he started undoing the buttons on his outer robe. "It's Christmas and I want my present early this year."

"Impudent," Snape said fondly and then leaned down to kiss Harry deeply. 

Somehow they found their way into Snape's bedchamber, although Snape had no clear recollection of how they had arrived there. Harry was still struggling with the small buttons on his outer robe and for the first time, Snape regretted the layers of cloth he normally covered himself in. 

"Let me," he gasped as he gently pushed Harry away. A quick spell released the buttons and Snape dropped the robe to the floor.

Snape remembered to cast a warming charm on the room as they quickly rid themselves of the rest of their clothing. They tumbled down onto the bed, kissing passionately. After several moments, Snape pushed back so that he could take a better look at this new lover. He was quite conscious of Harry doing the same thing. At the back of his mind was a worry that Harry would find him unacceptable and call it all off. Snape pushed down harshly on those thoughts.

Harry was a small, compact man. His body shape much more closely resembled his mother's than his tall, lanky father. Probably for the best, Snape realized. Being reminded of his old nemesis in bed wouldn't do either of them any good. He was still almost completely hairless, although the small growth of hair on his chest suggested thicker growth over the next few years. His body was well muscled, no doubt a result of years of Quidditch and, more recently, extensive dueling sessions with his master. Snape's eyes were invariably drawn down to the large scar that started on Harry's left hip and traveled down his leg. It had been a year and a half since the injury and the intervening time had turned the scar a silvery white colour.

"Don't look at it," Harry whispered and attempted to turn his body so that the scar would be out of Snape's sight.

Snape reached down and clamped his fingers on Harry's hip. Once Harry had stilled, he released his right hand and ran his fingers over the raised skin of the scar.

"Severus," Harry protested softly. "Please don't."

"It still hurts, doesn't it?"

"Only in the mornings," Harry told him. "It is slowly healing and in the mean time Reinhardt and I have improved the spells I use to stabilize the joint."

Snape nodded. He leaned in and gently kissed the scar. The new skin felt smooth to the touch. Snape had seen and felt enough of his own scars over the years to know this was normal. Still, he had hoped to never have to see one quite like this on Harry.

Harry gasped slightly as the first touch of Snape's lips. He hadn't been expecting the gentle touch. The young man threaded his fingers into Snape's hair and held on.

As Snape pulled back from Harry's hip, his cheek bumped against the smaller man's erection. Snape felt a wet trail across his cheek and couldn't help but lick the tip as his mouth passed it. Harry gasped again and his fingers tightened in Snape's hair.

"Severus," he moaned.

Snape looked up at the young man's face and saw that his eyes were closed tightly. A look of intense pleasure was on his face. Snape felt quite smug at his ability to cause such a feeling with just what he had done so far. He leaned in once more and took the Harry's length into his mouth.

Harry wasn't long, in fact Snape would almost say he was somewhat shorter than average. Of course, that likely had something to do with the man's overall compact build. He was, however, relatively thick and Snape loved the feel of him against his tongue.. Harry moaned and thrust up into Snape's mouth as Snape moved up and down the length and softly ran his tongue along the vein on the underside.

Harry was eighteen and it wasn't long at all before he was shouting out his climax and spilling his come down Snape's throat. Snape continued to suck Harry until he had softened, then he let him slide out of his mouth. He looked up at the young man's face. The smile he wore was beautiful and Snape felt his own erection throb in response.

Snape moved up the bed and caught Harry's mouth for a deep kiss. He drew the younger man's tongue into his mouth and allowed him to taste his seed. As they were kissing, Snape moved his hand down and slipped his fingers into the cleft of Harry's arse. His fingers brushed against the sweet pucker he found there and Harry sighed into his mouth. 

Pulling back from their kiss, Snape muttered a quick spell to lubricate Harry. He truly would have preferred a good lubricant of his own manufacture, but it had been years since he had been in need of one and it simply wasn't on hand. The spell would do for the night, but Snape would brew the potion first thing in the morning. He slipped one finger inside Harry and was surprised when the man went rigid in his arms.

"Harry?"

"It's okay," the younger man gasped. "Just... I didn't expect it to feel quite like that."

"What?"

"Umm..."

"Are you a virgin, Potter?" Snape demanded. This was the last thing he had expected, especially with the way Harry had been coming on to him since last year.

"Well between fighting Voldemort and lusting over you, I didn't exactly have a lot of chances to sleep my way around the school, did I? And don't call me Potter," Harry snarled.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you knew."

"Why the bloody hell would I know that?" Did Potter think he kept tabs on the sex lives of all his students now?

"Look," Harry sighed, "can we not fight while you have your finger up my arse? I'm sorry, I should have told you. Now, can you please go back to what you were doing?"

Snape scowled at his young lover. Harry just smiled sweetly back and him and wiggled his arse in encouragement. Snape growled and then continued with his preparation of Harry.

He made certain to go slowly. He took his time to make sure that Harry was comfortable before adding another finger and then one more into his tight hole. The first time Snape's finger trailed across his prostate, Potter cried out loudly and shuddered. Snape smirked in response and then continued to do it again and again. Eventually when he was sure his young lover was ready, Snape pulled his fingers out and placed his hand on Harry's hip.

"Roll over," he instructed and Harry obeyed without question. He positioned Harry on his side and then moved up behind him. Snape pushed one of Harry's legs forward to gain access and then kissed the back of his lover's neck.

He lined himself up and slid slowly into Harry's grasping heat. It felt amazing. As he pushed in the final few inches, they both moaned deeply. Snape had never felt more connected to a lover than he did at that moment. He started moving, slowly at first, but building up a rhythm until they were both crying out in pleasure.

Snape reached around and closed his fingers over Harry's erection, which was hard and weeping once more. He pumped Harry as he slid in and out of the man's arse. Snape could feel himself reaching his climax. He angled his thrusts so that he was brushing past Harry's prostate on each stroke. He felt Harry pulse slightly in his hand and knew the other man was close as well. Two more strokes and they were both falling over the edge, crying each other's names.

They lay there for several minutes afterwards, not wanting to move. Eventually Snape slid out of Harry and the younger man rolled over to face his lover. There was a sleepy, satisfied look on his face.

"That was great," Harry said as he buried his head in Snape's chest.

"I'm glad I lived up to your expectations," Snape replied with a amused smile.

Harry snorted inelegantly and shivered against the chill Snape's warming charm hadn't quite chased away. Snape maneuvered them until he could draw the bedcover and sheets back and pull them over their bodies. 

"Best present ever," Harry muttered into Snape's chest as he drifted off to sleep. Snape found he agreed without reservation; Harry definitely beat socks from Albus any day of the week.

-end-  
2003/12/12


End file.
